‘Were you a frequent visitor to his house?’

‘No, not at all. I’d only just met him.’

‘Oh,’ said Buttler, sounding surprised. ‘But he’d given you his address.’

‘Yes.’

‘Go on.’

‘When he hadn’t reappeared after another fifteen minutes or so, I decided to check again. I didn’t want to interrupt so I just edged the door open. I was still bemused so I decided to look further in. Then I saw it.’

‘It?’

Sara patted an eye with a handkerchief. ‘The shape. The shape on the sofa.’

‘I’m sorry to take you through it,’ said Buttler. ‘Were there any lights on?’

Sara, recovering, put on a tiny show of straining to recollect. ‘No, I don’t think so. The curtains were open so there was some light coming in from the American Embassy lights and construction sites.’

‘Then?’

‘I went closer. You’ve seen it. I’d rather not describe it in detail.’

‘No need.’

‘I touched it… him. There was no movement. I tried to find his pulse. Then I phoned 999. From his desk phone.’

Simultaneously, they looked round – there was movement outside. A woman had entered the open-plan area, accompanied by a policeman. Sara knew it could only be Lady Morahan. She turned back to Buttler.

‘We can resume tomorrow,’ he said, understanding too what he was seeing. ‘If there’s anything more.’

They entered the open-plan area; Iona Morahan was heading towards the corridor leading into her husband’s office. Buttler followed to join her. Sara sat down beside Patrick and Pamela, all holding their silence till she disappeared.

‘I just can’t imagine…’ said Patrick.

‘No,’ said Sara. More silence.

Iona and the two policemen reappeared within a couple of minutes. She broke away from them to join the Inquiry staffers.

Pamela stood to offer a hand, ‘Lady Morahan… a tragedy… we are all so sorry.’

Iona turned to Patrick and Sara. ‘Mr Duke and Miss Shah, I presume.’

‘Yes,’ they answered in unison.

‘My husband spoke highly of both of you.’

‘He was a great man,’ said Patrick.

‘Yes,’ echoed Sara. ‘I wish I’d known him longer.’

‘I suspect he would have thought the same about you,’ she smiled bleakly. Sara caught the eye of Buttler listening in.

Iona looked across at the policeman who had escorted her. ‘I think perhaps I will go straight home now.’ He moved towards her offering an arm; she rejected it, instead striding alone toward the stairs.

‘It’s late,’ Buttler said. ‘There’s no need for any of you three to stay. A police guard will be posted overnight – Miss Bailly, perhaps we could run through security and entrance procedures here.’

‘Of course,’ said Pamela.

‘Because of the nature of the death, a scene of crime officer will attend as soon as possible and also a pathologist. There may be biological evidence still intact.’

‘Evidence of what, Mr Buttler?’ asked Pamela abruptly.